The Revenge of Oliver
by Ten-Faced
Summary: Sequel to 'Welcome, Oliver, to HELL' Oliver is sick and tired of Big Al always teasing him. With the help of the crazy Master and dear friend/love interest Iroha, will he be able to get his REVENGE? Minor IrohaxOliver


Here it is! The long-awaited sequel to 'Welcome, Oliver, to HELL!'

Oliver plans his revenge... heh heh heh. Another attempt at humour.

* * *

><p>Oliver was a fairly peaceful person. He disliked fighting or arguing, was scared of blood or psychos (and the Master. She was creepy and weird), and had always thought that a peaceful solution was the best.<p>

Until he came to the Vocaloid Mansion to be teased and pranked mercilessly by Big Al.

._._.

"Yeeaaarrgh!" yelled Oliver as he slipped on some oil. He fell heavily to the ground, while Big Al snickered in the back.

"Slick, kid." He said, and then laughed, slapping his thighs. "Get it? _Slick?_ Ha ha _ha_! I crack myself up!"

Master Ten-Faced walked by, avoiding the puddle. "Oliver, clean this up." She mumbled, engrossed in the book she was reading.

And Oliver spent the rest of the day wiping up a puddle of oil that seemed to mysteriously expand whenever he turned around.

._._.

"Why do I have to run?" whined Oliver. It was three A.M. in the morning, and Big Al had burst into his room, grabbed the sleeping boy and pulled him to the field outside the mansion.

"Master Ten-Faced said so." Replied Big Al, stretching his legs. "See?" in his hands was a piece of legal sized paper, signed and stamped by Ten-Faced, where it was clearly written that she expected ten laps around the house.

Ten laps around a thirty acre mansion.

He was dead.

._._.

"I don`t sign papers." The Master told him flatly when he came into the house, sore and stiff, and asked why she had signed a piece of paper telling him to run.

She picked the document up and inspected it for a total of two-and-a-half seconds. "It`s a fake."

Oliver couldn`t help it: He broke down, altering between sobbing like someone had died and laughing insanely. In the end, Master had to call Iroha to calm him down.

._._.

"….And he picks on me, calls me an English shota, plays those stupid pranks, calls me an English shota, tells dumb jokes, calls me an English shota, makes up false rumours about me, and…." He took a deep breath. "CALLS ME AN ENGLISH SHOTA!"

Iroha hid a smile. The painfully shy boy had certainly gained more courage. "So I take it you do not appreciate being called an English shota?" she asked in her unusual, deep voice.

"No!" he shouted. "I am not a shota!" he began to rant again. "_Len_ is a shota, _Piko_ is a shota, and the new Vocaloid _Lui_ is a shota! Hell, and even _Mikuo _could be a shota! But I am not a-!" here he choked. In his anger, he was acting rude and vulgar in the presence of a lady. He wasn`t raised like that by his mother (if he even had a mother, that is)!

"Sorry," he mumbled, suddenly ashamed at his outburst.

Iroha only laughed. "That was funny!" she giggled. And then she turned serious. "But he`s only joking, you know."

He sighed. "Yeah, but I`m sick of him only picking on me all the time," he explained. "and I`m not an-"

"English shota. Yeah, you mentioned that." Iroha turned thoughtful. "Thing is, every time someone tried to give him a dose of his medicine, they failed."

"Why?"

The Hello Kitty-loid shrugged. "Maybe `cause he`s the Prank King."

"More like the Prank Jester." Grumbled Oliver.

Iroha suddenly snapped her fingers. "I know one person who can help!" she announced.

._._.

"No. Please, no."

Oliver stared at the door with his one good eye. He looked terrified.

"She`s the only one who ever made him look like an idiot. Well," she amended. "A bigger idiot than he looks like now, but she tricked him."

"But Master`s freaky!" cried Oliver.

"Why, yes, I am." Said girl popped out of (literarily) nowhere.

Oliver`s poor, fragile heart couldn`t take the surprise. He fainted.

._._.

Everything was hazy. For a second he panicked. Was he dead? Where was he? He tried to move, but failed.

_'Oliver?'_ Huh, he must have been dead. Maybe he was in Heaven, hearing the voice of an Angel. The voice was certainly the most beautiful one in the world.

_'Dude, wake up.'_ If he could, he would have frowned. That wasn`t a voice he wanted to hear at all. He tried to shout 'Demon be gone!' but only murmured some unintelligible sounds.

_'Um, Master? What are you doing?'_ he relaxed. The Angel`s voice was there. He could die happy.

_'Putting ice cubes down his shirt.' _

With that one sentence, and the cold, wet squares on his skin, he suddenly remembered. And then opened his eyes.

"Cold! Cold, cold, cold, cold!" Oliver shot up like a rocket and started to run around the room like a headless chicken. He paused, and took a deep breath. "COLD!"

"Heh heh heh." Iroha glared at the snickering Master. "Was that necessary?" she demanded.

"It worked, didn`t it?"

._._.

"You want me to help you get Big Al back for all the practical jokes he played on you?" After removing the half-melted chunks of ice (no longer cubes) from his sensitive back skin, they had told the Master their plans. And asked for her help.

"Meh, sure, why not." She shrugged, and pulled a briefcase out of nowhere.

"Now," she took out a laptop. "According to the data that my spies got for me, Big Al has seven known weaknesses. For personal security, I shall inform you of one." She typed in something and clicked.

"This is Alguin." On the monitor was Big Al`s penguin mutant thing. "One of his weaknesses."

._._.

Big Al stood, horrified, reading the note in his hands.

_Alguin is with us. If you want to see him again, come to the garage._

_-Anonymous-_

"AAALLLLLGUUUUUUUIIIIIIN!" He bellowed.

._._.

Master`s head snapped up. "Is someone watching 'Alvin and the Chipmunks?'" she demanded.

._._.

Big Al dashed into the garage, desperate to see his little buddy-

-and slipped in a slick liquid, before getting into a rope trap that pulled him up.

"What the-?" before he could finish that sentence with several profanities, a large bucket of paint was dumped on him, followed by sequins. Lots and lots of sequins.

As if it couldn`t get worse, the rope trap suddenly released him, making him fall into the slippery substance generously covering the floor. Which happened to be clay.

The result happened to be a paint-splattered Big Al with sequins covering his eyes and hanging out of his hair, with clay streaking his body. If only that was it…

"Say cheese!" yelled Oliver, and took about five hundred pictures with his Samsung Galaxy 2*. Beside him, Iroha was barely managing to contain her laughter as she recorded everything with a video camera.

._._.

From then on, Big Al mysteriously stopped pranking Oliver, and also ceased to call him an English Shota. Whenever he tried, either Oliver or Iroha would gently remind him by saying "pictures…", "paint….", or "sequins…".

And so, everyone lived happily ever after!

* * *

><p>*-That phone takes amazing pictures. Seriously.<p>

Ah, I love a happy ending. You know what I love even more? REVIEWS!

Thank you for reading, please review!

~Ten-Faced~


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